Run: 2026-10-07-01M4ATNMJDH2NM6V29CDWTSECV

The helium balloons sagged like overripe fruit against the gymnasium ceiling. Molly adjusted her sequined party hat, the plastic gems catching the harsh fluorescent light. "The target is six-year-old Tyler Morrison," she whispered very urgently, consulting a crayon-covered napkin stained with juice. "His parents are loaded. We hit the gift table at 2:15 after pin-the-tail." Bill twisted a purple noisemaker, making it squeak against his stubbled chin. "This feels wrong, Molly. Stealing from a child's birthday is practically terrorism with cake." "And we're talking about a limited edition robot set that costs more than my car," Molly snapped, pointing at a glossy toy brochure with an urgency. "Do you want to eat ramen at Christmas? Or should we consider crime that pays?" Bill sighed, tucking the noisemaker into his cargo pocket. "Fine. But if the cake is chocolate, I'm eating it. Non-negotiable." "Obviously. We're professionals, not monsters." They high-fived. The gesture lasted three awkward seconds before Molly's plastic tiara fell off and rolled under a metal chair. Bill added, examining a juice box, "I call dibs on the goody bags. Need the temporary tattoos." "You're forty-two," Molly said, adjusting her crooked tiara. "Age is a number. Where's the getaway car?"